


As It Should Be

by CNWinters



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Desire, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Love, Lust, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CNWinters/pseuds/CNWinters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabrielle watches her warrior at an amazon celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As It Should Be

**A** **s It Should Be**

I remember a time when she wouldn’t look at me for fear that her eyes would show too much. But now... now her eyes never leave me. Even as she glances elsewhere I know she is still aware of where I am – tracking my movements with other senses; feeling my presence.

She watches me now. Although her eyes are on my regent, pretending to be engaged in conversation, she knows precisely where to find me. She knows I’m watching her.

Finally, her beautiful azure eyes look over to meet my intense stare. I see it. And I know... she is as captured by me as I am by her. I relish these looks between us – given so openly now, yet so concealed. My lover could speak volumes with just a look. This moment is no different.

She tosses her head ever so slightly, motioning me to her. My body and heart are helpless to resist. A few strides later I am at her side, her arm slipping around my back, her palm resting on my hip, her long fingers clutching my well toned abs. The feel of being protected and possessed envelops me. It is the greatest feeling I’ve ever known... no... the second greatest. For the greatest feeling is when she pleasures me... and judging by the look in her eye, tonight will be one of those glorious nights.

She’ll lay claim to my desire, becoming the victor, and yet, in her victory I will feel like the true winner.

I feel my anticipation grow, like the wetness between my rock hard thighs. She can sense my excitement. With a light squeeze to my exposed flesh, she reassures me. She feels the same too.

Moments later we bid my regent goodnight. As I fumble with the hut door, I feel my warriors’ armor against my back; her breath upon my sensitive ear.

"Let me help," she whispers.

She feels my helplessness. For I am truly helpless at this moment. Even the easiest of tasks become a burden. My desire for this tall, dark woman makes me lose the simplest abilities.

She opens the door. She leads me inside with a gentle hand to my shoulder. I wonder, as I shudder, if it’s her gentleness or her skin on mine that bring forth this reaction. I realize it is both.

Once inside, safely hidden from the village eyes, she reaches for me from behind. I watch, hypnotically, as her steady fingers work my laces free, loop by agonizing loop.

Finally my breasts are exposed to the cool night air, but only for a moment. Her hands capture me as my passion for her seeps into my breathless sigh.

Too soon, however, her exquisite hands depart my mounds. I hear, rather than see, her move to rid herself of her armor. But tonight I feel I must have my warrior - or more correctly, I must feel my warrior take me.

"No," I tell her. The want and need fill my fragile, husky voice. "Leave it."

She understands and complies. Without delay I feel my britches tugged from my waist. Next, my skirt goes, joining the pool of clothing at my feet.

Her breathing has changed – as has mine – short and shallow; aching with ardent passion. Gods how I live for this woman, returned from deaths grip for this woman, as she’s done for me.

A few heartbeats later, she turns me. I look up to see her beautiful eyes adoring me, hungering for me. My legs are weak. I am grateful as she moves to lift me, cradling me in her sturdy yet feminine arms.

She has yet to kiss me. I already feel a river raging from my loins, damp and sticky; waiting impatiently for her explorations I know will soon come. Gently she lays me on the bed. I am unsure of how I arrived here; aware only of the fact that I am with her – as it should be.

I feel her pull my sandals from my feet. Soon, her sword callused hands caress the length of my legs up and down in a maddening motion.

Everything about my lover excites me. And in this excitement I feel I can no longer wait. My eyes show their desire in their hoodedness. I must have her. She will take me.

I rise. My hands latch forcefully to her breastplate, drawing her near. She moves to kiss me, but I resist. I see this game arouses her too with her groan of raw passion. Without delay, she settles herself seductively between my center. I feel her chakram caresses my thigh as she poises herself. It heightens my need; deepens my ache. Her contact is delicate at first, teasing almost, and my hips rise to meet her.

I feel her pull back, ever so slightly, staring intently into my eyes asking a question already knowing the answer.

"Who’s your warrior?" she breathes softly yet filled with the authority I now crave.

"You are," I mutter, straining my vocal cords to work.

My answer is correct, it appears, for she returns to connect with me. I happily accept it.

"Who’s your champion?" she asks next. Her body begins a slow primal rhythm.

I know she expects an answer, but the sensations are too much. My fingers weed their way into her swirls of brass, hanging on for dear life as she takes me higher.

"You are," I manage to proclaim in a heated whisper.

I am rewarded again. This time her movements increase. They are harder; faster. I can now feel her wetness grow as mine does. Her britches under her battle skirt are soaked with her need to bring me pleasure.

"Who’s your lover?"

The words are ragged from her lips. The lust pours into the question. As does her devotion and love.

"You are," I answer one last time. "Only you, Xena."

My name becomes an ardent sigh on her lips. It sends me further from reality. I always loved the way my name trickled from her mouth – all three syllables pronounced perfectly; passionately.

I realize I need that mouth. A hand disengages my hold on the breast plate. It travels to the back of her head. Our movements never cease. She takes me higher still.

My lips reach and finally meet hers. The sound of our bodies writhing against each other is true music to me. The feel of her tongue delving into the moist cavern of my mouth comforts me. The smell of our desire mingling with each other’s flesh pushes me. Higher. And higher yet.

I feel the approach. She does too. Whether it’s the look in my eyes; the sharpness of my breath; the heat of my skin, I do not know. In any regard she can tell. She KNOWS me and it is this fact that pushes me over the edge.

I cry her name in pleasure and in pain. Not that she has inflicted pain upon me. Far from it. The pain is that one day I may be without her. Because that’s what happens sometimes with things you love – they just leave you.

Instead of dwelling on the pain, I revel in the pleasure now. She smirks at the smile of satisfaction that crosses my lips – for my pleasure is her pleasure – just as it has always been. Just as it is with me. Just as it should be.

I try my best to stay focused; alert, but her loving is far too powerful and I feel myself now being claimed by Morpheus. She leaves our bed only to return as bare as I am. I feel myself mumble, unsure of what I have said.

"Tomorrow," I hear her whisper softly; affectionately. "Rest now."

I comply, safe in our love, safe in her arms.

"Tomorrow", my mind repeats. "Yes my warrior. Tomorrow and everyday... As it should be."

**The End**


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